Humanity's Final Stand
by TheMightySnorlax
Summary: Exiled from civilisation for a crime he didn't commit, Ash finds solace in a young trainer named Lillie. Will she be able to turn him from the dark side and restore his faith in humanity? Evil Ash, Betrayed Ash. Aureliashipping [Ash x Lillie]
1. Chapter 1

**I have been wanting to write an Ash betrayal fic for a while (I know, how original) but most of the ones I've read seem to be identical.**

 **So I've tried to shuffle things around from the usual 'friends telling him to give up his dream' theme, as well as the 'Ash comes back for a big tournament and no one knows who he is' theme.**

 **Instead, he will be evil muhahaha. There will still be elements from other betrayal fics since there are like literally thousands littered around , but I'm going to try and deviate from the main formula.**

 **Important notes:**

 **-This story is set after the events of Best Wishes (i.e. Ash never went to Kalos)**

 **-After Unova, Ash comes back to Kanto and wins the league there.**

 **-Stronger, more skilled version of Ash**

 **-Romance isn't the main genre of this fic, but it will be a part of it.**

 **~xXx~**

 **Prologue**

Gray felt a rough pair of hands grab his shoulders, and he was shoved into the dark room without warning. The mechanical doors slammed shut, and he heard the familiar click as a bolt was fastened into place. There was no turning back.

He examined his surroundings. The room was rectangular and dimly lit, with the only source of light coming from the large screen that sat behind the back wall. All around him, celestial figures gleamed — their faint light casting shadows which flickered onto the walls like dancing ghosts.

The sculptures themselves were contained within bell-shaped jars. They perched on top of wooden shelves, which were organised into neat rows and displayed like an antique collection.

Gray pressed his face against the jars, and a cold shudder trickled down his spine. They were just sculptures of pokemon, albeit sculptures that looked scarily realistic. Too realistic, in fact. Their facial expressions were carved with such vividness that had they not been bronze, he would have thought they were alive.

He spotted a Celebi, whose mouth was hanging open in shock, fear crafted into her delicate eyes. She seemed to shielding herself around something; her arms were draped around her head.

Next to it posed a Victini. This one looked like it was running away; his arms outstretched, one leg dangling in the air.

Gray breathed. It almost were as if they were alive. He reached out to touch one, but immediately recoiled in pain as a jolt ran down his nerves. The sculptures were defended by some sort of invisible barrier. Wincing, he put the sore thumb in his mouth.

"Fine collection, don't you think?" A voice boomed from across the hallway.

Gray looked up, and saw a man leaning casually against his chair. A shadow loomed over his face, shielding his features but not his mouth, where a sinister smile lingered.

"Master." He acknowledged.

"Few people know the true value of a legendary pokemon." The man swung off his chair and paced around the room, marvelling at his glittering collection of toys.

"Those who have the insight, who can see the bigger picture know that they are absolutely _priceless_. These have cost me a fortune, but that fortune was sacrificed for power. Here's a little secret: when one possesses enough power to bend the world to his will, everything — and by that I mean everything — will belong to him." The man smiled, satisfied with his explanation.

Gray shuffled his feet nervously. "I understand."

The man stroked his chin. "I assume the plan is all set in motion?"

"Yes, master. Ash Ketchum will fall, and rise again on our side."

"Be careful. He will not succumb to our wishes easily, so this has to achieved through deceit, and deceit alone. _Make_ him believe he is doing the right thing."

"I know that," Gray rolled his eyes. "He won't know who he's working for at all."

"Excellent." A grin emerged on the man's face. "The champion will be an fine addition to our ranks indeed. With someone like him doing our bidding, no one will dare stand in our way." He boasted.

"Of course. He is a powerful trainer."

"Mhm." The man grunted. "Oh, and one last thing."

"Yes, master?"

"Don't let your emotions get in the way, will you? After all, he is your friend."

"Was." Gray corrected. "I hate him with a passion."

The man roared with laughter. "Oh, you're so petty, Gray. All you seek is revenge. Or should I call you by your real name? Mr—"

"Don't. Say. That. Name." Gray growled, his fists clenching in anger.

"Very well. You're dismissed." The man snapped his fingers, and the doors flew open again. Gray stalked out of the room, huffing in rage. He stormed past the two guards without a word.

 **End of Prologue**

 **~xXx~**

 **Humanity's Final Stand**

Ash's fingers curled around the microphone. He scanned the audience below — a sea of faithful supporters from Pallet Town, celebrating his victory in the Indigo Plateau.

Amongst them stood familiar faces: Potter, the clumsy gardener who tended to the plants at the Xandu Greenhouse. Daisy Oak, who ran a grooming service for pokemon a few blocks down the street. Even Robert, the faithful assistant who had resided in Professor Oak's lab for the past decade came out in his worn lab coat to join the party.

There were his friends as well: Misty, Brock, May, Dawn, Iris and Cilan all had the privilege of experiencing first-hand VIP seats. Delia happily retreated to the second row, her puffy cheeks flushing pink with pride of her little boy. Next to her sat Gary, Drew and Paul. They were rivals that Ash had developed over the years, yet chose to attend out of mutual respect.

The crowd hushed as Ash lifted the microphone to his lips.

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen." He spread his arms, reciting the speech that Brock had written him an hour ago. The piece of paper lay crumpled and enclosed within his fist.

"First of all, I want to thank the audience. Thank you for picking out precious hours of your time to celebrate my victory in the Indigo Plateau, and join me in this little parade."

An enthusiastic cheer erupted from the crowd.

Memories from the final match flashed across Ash's vision in fragments, popping up here and there like quantum molecules in and out of existence.

 ** _"_** _CHUPI!"_

 _The earth-shaking crunch as Pikachu brought his tail down in a blinding flash of white, slamming it full onto his opponent's skull._

 _The heart-pulsing thud as Trip's Serperior hit the ground, motionless, and the silence that swept the stadium afterwards._

 _The immortal words that escaped the umpire's lips— "Serperior is unable to battle, therefore Pikachu wins! And the winner of the Indigo Plateau is Ash Ketchum!"_

 _The taste of victory tingling on his skin, the roar of the crowd chilling in his bones._

 _A blur of yellow — Pikachu racing across his vision, and the next moment he is in Ash's arms. The feeling of warmth as the rodent nuzzled against his chest, the sensation of ecstasy as fans chant his name._

A smile played on Ash's lips as the snippets of his victory replayed before his eyes. He looked at the audience, and newfound energy surged through him. Ash stuffed the crumpled piece of paper into his pocket and improvised.

"Every time I stand on the battlefield, the roar of the crowd is like music to my ears. Whether you were present in the stands, or watching from television at home, or simply supporting me in spirit — I just want to say thank you, because you gave me strength when I needed it. You gave me hope when I doubted myself."

Ash tried to inject energy into his voice. "It truly pushes me forwards, knowing that people all the way back in Pallet are out there rooting for me, watching every move I make. I've said it before, and I'll say it again.

Your support means the world to me, from the very moment I set foot on this journey until the very last time I walk out of a battlefield." The last remnants of the paper crumbled in his fist.

An infatuated 'awwwww' swept across the audience.

"I will never forget the support from my friends—" Ash paused, gesturing towards the front row where they sat. "Without your help, I would have never won the Indigo Plateau. I would be forever known as the rookie trainer from Pallet town who didn't know how to catch a Pokémon."

Ash locked eyes with each and every one of his friends. They were his family, and rightfully so. Together, they had been through so much — the highs and the lows, the good times and the bad times. Together, they had seen it all.

"Throughout my travels, I have learned from every single one of you — not just in battling, but other aspects of life as well. Your inspiration allows me to keep going, and your encouragements stop me from giving up."

More cheering. Ash's friends flashed flustered smiles in return.

"Oh, I couldn't forget about you guys — Gary, Drew, Paul." He added, motioning towards the trio who sat cross-legged in the middle. The audience chuckled.

"You may have been my rivals, but your role has been no less important than any of my friends."

Gary suppressed a smile, while Paul merely arched a brow.

"Without you, I would have never pushed myself beyond the limit. I would have never had the ambition… the motivation… the determination to become the very best. For that, I am grateful for the impact you've had on my life." Ash bowed his head, and a subconscious smirk flickered across Drew's face.

"Last but not least, I want to thank my mom for everything she has done for me."

The crowd erupted in applause, and Delia hid her face in blushes.

"Mom, you have been by my side since — I don't even know when. I know that even though I'm always away from home, always going on a journey — you have never stopped watching over me, making sure that I was all right. I cannot thank you enough for that."

Ash channeled his emotions into his voice, letting his heart do the talking. He freed all the thoughts on his mind: how his mom always sent him clean clothes, how she never cooked a bad meal, how she treated his friends with love and compassion.

The crowd responded with yet another round of applause, and Delia earned herself a couple of pats on the back.

Ash waited for the noise to die down, then took a deep breath. This was the hardest part — the tragedy.

It was the drop of toxic sludge that polluted a clear river, the unfortunate blip in an otherwise perfect party. Ash didn't want to ruin the mood more than anyone, but it had to be done sooner or later, and he preferred to get it over with.

"Finally, I want to thank my mentor." He said quietly.

The atmosphere turned dark, and smiles faded abruptly from the audiences' faces. Gary let out a slight grimace, and a few uncomfortable grunts echoed throughout the audience.

"It is of the utmost regret that Professor Oak is unable to join us today. He has experienced a, ah — most unfortunate accident, and as a result he is currently in a coma."

Silence. The swooshing noise as leaves rustled against the wind suddenly sounded distinct and clear in the crowded square. A few gasps broke out; there was bound to be someone who hadn't kept up with current affairs, but to everyone else this was old news.

Some closed their eyes and lowered their heads in respect. Others followed suit, and within seconds the entire crowd fell silent, forming a sea of heads bowed together in unison. Whatever chattering that remained was reduced to faint whispers in the wind.

Not only was Professor Oak a world renowned researcher, he was also one of the most influential figures in Pallet Town. His name came with an air of respect that not even the most senior members of the council would dare cross. After all, he was Samuel Oak.

Ash's voice began to crack. "He gave me my Pikachu. He has watched over me from the start of my journey, like the father I never had. I owe this man my life, and wish him a speedy recovery."

He fought back a sob in his throat. Two days ago, Professor Oak had been found in his room, motionless as a rag doll. There were no visible scratches or cuts on his body, just an unconscious man lying on the floor, his breathing faint and his pulse almost nonexistent. The paramedics arrived to the scene within minutes, and concluded that he was alive and perfectly well — except that he had fallen into a coma.

Ash slowly lifted his head, and the crowd followed his lead. He shook angry tears out of his eyes. _No, stop it._ Ash thought. He mustn't dwell on the past when there was a future waiting ahead of him. All he could do right now was hope for the best and wait.

He still had a goal to fulfil, a dream to fight for. One day, Ash would challenge the mighty Elite Four — Lorelei, Bruno, Agatha and Koga. They would bow before his feet, then Ash would topple Lance from the throne himself. When he earned the title of Kanto Champion, other people would be challenging him, and he would defend the position with all his might.

After that, he would return to Pallet. Perhaps by then, the professor would have recovered from this coma. If he hadn't… Ash shuddered at the horrible thought. Well, at least he knew that he would have done the professor proud. Samuel Oak was one of the few who believed in him from day one.

Ash shuffled back to his senses. For a brief moment, no one knew what to do. Then a single clap emerged from the silence, and it escalated into thunderous applause.

The audience were still clapping when a screech pierced the air.

It sounded like a mechanical bird singing horribly out of tune, at a frequency which almost shattered eardrums. All around him, people dropped to their knees, jamming fingers into their ears to stop the incessant screeching.

Ash looked backwards, and realised that the screen was malfunctioning — a sea of black and white pixels flickered in and out of sight, swirling around to form a greyish square. The screech was replaced by a constant hum that filled the air, as if the computer itself was being hacked.

An uneasy sensation swept across Ash's gut. As if they had minds of their own, the pixels started to rearrange themselves to project a video onto the screen. A red dot blinked on the bottom corner, while the date was displayed on the top in bolded, white print. This was security camera footage.

The image strained to produce a room — Professor Oak's study. Oak slouched on his desk, a thick book in his hands as he trawled through pages and pages of literary text. It was getting late, and he stifled a yawn. In fact, it was three in the morning. Nevertheless, time was just a concept for the professor. There was no such thing as too much research.

Suddenly, the door creaked open. A glimmer of light shot through the crack, and a figure emerged from the shadows. A moment of uncertainty ensued as the figure hid his face from camera, his identity unknown to the audience — then he turned, and the crowd gasped.

It was Ash.

The footage was of rather poor quality, and the lack of colour was glaring, but there was no doubt about it. Ash's spiky hair protruded from his hood like a porcupine, ruffled and unorganised as always. The Z-marks on his cheeks gleamed in the dark like eternal battle scars. His skin was pale, his eyes sunken and bloodshot as if he hadn't slept for days.

The last shadow of doubt was eliminated by the tiny figure that trailed on his shoulder. Pikachu morphed into view, his red pouches pulsing with static electricity as his zig-zag shaped tail wagged in the dark.

Ash entered the room, and quietly closed the door behind him. Professor Oak didn't seem to notice; his eyes remain glued to the huge book that sprawled across his lap, straining to read the small text within. Whenever Oak was indulged in pokemon research, there was no stopping him. The outside world simply ceased to exist from his point of view.

The hooded figure crept along the wooden floor until he was hovering directly above the swivel chair. A plank creaked.

Oak swung around. A grin spread on his face upon seeing Ash, and he mouthed a greeting — probably something like " _Howdy, Ash?"_.

Faster than a Ninjask, Ash's right arm darted around and clamped onto the professor's mouth. He muffled a scream, but the boy held on with a grip of steel. He twisted and pulled Professor Oak towards his chest, slamming him into the ground. The floorboard cracked, and a dozen books tumbled from their shelves. The boy glanced around, but no one seemed to be startled.

He continued his work. Ignoring the Professor's muffled protests, the hooded figure dragged him along the ground like a sack of garbage — straight into the toilet. No one knew what happened afterwards, for the two of them had disappeared from the screen completely.

Pikachu turned; he finally spotted the security camera. His amber eyes narrowed into slits, and a jolt of electricity surged from his cheeks. The screen illuminated with a crackling glow, then it went blank.

 **~xXx~**

 **Hoped you enjoyed the chapter! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Here it is: the betrayal chapter :)**

* * *

 **~xXx~**

Silence hung in the air, and the atmosphere turned sour within seconds. Ash staggered away from the screen as if it were an evil spirit. His eyes widened in shock, and his breathing became rapid. _This isn't true. This isn't true, This isn't true._ Ash muttered the same phrase over and over again, his brain refusing to process what his eyes told him.

He hit a bump, and Ash realised that he was standing at the edge of the stage. A hundred eyes stared back at him, and they didn't seem very happy. His heart thumped. Sweat poured down the back of his shirt like a river, and his fingers trembled against his will.

 _But… how?_ Ash didn't recall even going into Professor Oak's room that night, yet here he was… strangling the professor in his own study. He wanted to scream _LIES!_ at the top of his lungs, but his vocal cords failed him. The evidence was sitting right in front of his eyes.

The hatred was so intense that Ash could almost smell it in the air. For a second, no one said anything. Then the first shout broke the deadlock.

"Murderer!"

"It was him! He beat the professor up and put him into a coma!"

"He tricked us! He was pretending to feel sorry about Samuel when he was the culprit himself!"

"The little brat! I'll tear him apart with my own hands!"

Ash had never felt such hopelessness in his life. He tried to shout and present his defence, but his voice was drowned out by the uproar of a hundred others. They were screaming at him with all their might — slurs, insults, language too foul for his young ears ripped across the air.

All in a sudden, his own body disobeyed him. Ash tried to speak, but nothing came out. He tried to move, but his legs were stiff as cardboard. The audience around him seemed to grow and loom like shadowy figures, and Ash thought he was hallucinating. He concentrated hard on breathing.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted his mom sobbing in the background, just as helpless as he was. Ash stood motionless, his mouth agape, watching as his life crumbled before his eyes. The Elite Four? Champion? Pokemon Master? Forget it. First, he had to avoid spending the next five years in a cell.

The crowd began chucking objects at Ash — tin cans, cutlery, whatever scrap they could pick off the ground. Ash shielded himself from the onslaught, but there seemed to be no end to the public's fury.

"Stop it!" Ash cried. "I didn't do it!" He was close to tears.

A tomato exploded at his feet. A shoe sailed past his ear. A plastic mug nailed him right in his eye, and Ash staggered backwards, a palette of swirling stars popping in his vision. Pulling himself upright, he scanned the crowd for the attacker.

It was Iris.

The normally outgoing girl was stricken with rage. Her eyes were filled with contempt, and her bush of hair swung wildly in the air. "I thought you were just a kid, Ash!" She screamed, kicking a basket of fruit at the boy. "I was wrong. You're a monster!"

"This is evil, Ash. Evil." Cilan muttered. The connoisseur didn't join in the egregrious assault, but he didn't stop it either. He just leaned back and let it happen.

Ash was so angry he didn't even feel the cans hitting him. One of them grazed the side of his face, and fresh blood began dripping from the wound. "You're not listening to me! I didn't do it!" He roared.

"Spare the lies, Ash. How could you? Professor Oak's been raising our pokemon for years!" Misty sprung to Iris' defence, her flaming red hair stuck up in rage. She balled her fists, and Ash wanted to punch her in the face.

"Jumping on the bandwagon again, huh, Misty? You've always been the first one to smack me down when I need your help. You know what? I lied. I was happy when you had to stay at the Cerulean Gym. One less annoying redhead to deal with." He spat.

Misty's face turned an ugly shade of purple. She leapt at Ash, spitting and scratching like a wild animal, but Brock held her back. "Ash Ketchum! I should have used you as bait when I fished you out of the water!" Her shrieks rang in the air like a witch.

Ash huffed. "Oh yea? You've never backed me up, Misty. You've always turned on me at the slightest opportunity. A true friend would stay by my side no matter what!"

"True friend! Like who?"

His stomach lurched. _True friends… If Misty wasn't a true friend, then who was?_

Ash felt a hollow sensation in his chest. A mixture of dread and uncertainty washed over him, and he scanned the crowd.

"M-May, you're on my side, r-right? A-Aren't we friends?" He stuttered at the sight of his brunette friend, whose face was contorted with disgust. His _real_ friends would back him up… right?

He reached out as if trying to touch her, but May recoiled in fear. Her eyes were red and puffy; she was on the verge of bursting into tears. "I… I don't think I know you anymore, Ash." She forced the words out. "You've changed."

Ash felt like he had been stabbed. Misty and Iris' words meant nothing for him; they argued about every five minutes anyway. But May… They generally got along well, and even the occasional arguments they had were light-hearted and resolved within hours. This was not.

He turned, his face livid, to his best friend — Dawn. "Dawn…" He breathed. "Please. Tell them they're wrong. Tell them." Ash was begging now. A sea of angry fists shook at him as garbage flew left and right, but he didn't care. All he wanted was someone to side with him.

Dawn had a flicker of pity in her deep blue eyes, but the last shred of sympathy dissolved as she spoke. "I wish I could…" Her eyes blazed with anger, her voice almost unrecognisable compared to the usual optimistic tone. "I wish I could believe you, but we all saw what happened. You put Professor Oak into a coma."

Ash tried to grab her, but Dawn had already turned her back. She wrinkled her nose in disgust and began walking towards the opposite direction.

Within minutes, the celebration party had transformed into a barbaric carnival. The stage was splattered with a variety foul-smelling liquids, the floor littered with heaps of half-eaten food. Ash's shirt was stained red from tomatoes, and a deep cut slashed across his cheek — Misty had launched a can that grazed his eye by millimetres.

However, Ash no longer cared about the crowd. Their insults came off as muffled screams that didn't register in his ears, and objects bounced off his body like flies swatting at an elephant. His mind focused solely on one thing.

Ash turned towards his oldest friend, the brother who had been by his side since the beginning of his journey — Brock. The doctor had yet to utter a word throughout. His brown hair was flung over his eyes like a mask, and Ash couldn't read his face at all.

"You believe me, r-right?" Ash's voice came out as nothing more than a croak, but he didn't even convince himself. "Look at me, Brock!" Ash pleaded, his voice shaking with desperation. "Look me in the eyes and tell me I'm lying!"

Brock refused to meet his eyes. He didn't show it, but deep inside, he was completely torn on both sides. Yes, he had known Ash longer than anyone. Yes, what he was accused of was completely not Ash-like at all. Then again, it was hard to disprove a video as blatant as this…

Everyone's gaze seemed to on him. The pressure loomed, and he had to make a decision. Brock's eyebrows scrunched up in frustration, complementing what to trust — logic or instincts? He shot a quick glance at Ash. The raven-haired boy pleaded with a swollen eye. A shoe knocked him in the head, but Ash ignored it. He was staring only at Brock.

It would be a cruel decision. Cruel, yet necessary. Brock gritted his teeth, closed his eyes and turned away.

Ash looked like he had just been handed the death sentence. The last shred of hope was torn away as the truth dawned on him — his friends simply didn't believe him.

After facing their hardships together, saving each other's skin more times than he could count, battling side by side against organisations striking for world domination, his friends simply didn't believe in him. Ash had trusted them with his life, and all he asked for in return was them to trust his word. They failed.

He felt betrayed.

Abandoned.

Cheated.

A mixture of emotions ran through his body — anger, frustration, denial, resent, misery all mangled into his brain like a blender with too many ingredients. There was only so far the human mind could stretch before it snapped.

"I hate you." He said quietly. "I hate you all."

For some reason, Ash sounded calm — something that Brock found even more worrying. A single chill shot down his spine. His voice wavered with such contempt, such hatred that for a second, Ash no longer looked human. His eyes were cold as stone, devoid of emotion like a monster. Brock thought that he was about to go on a murderous rampage.

Ash kicked a table on the stage, and it flipped. The contents spilled into the air — a glass of juice, a platter of biscuits and two sets of cutlery clattered onto the ground. His veins were bulging, his mind overcome by anger and frustration. Ash spotted his mom cowering in the back with fear, but logic and reason was far beyond him.

"I'm out of here." He spun and kicked a can into the air, which was met with a volley of fruit that splattered onto his face. Ash screamed a few inappropriate words into the crowd that would have normally earned himself a bar of soap in his mouth, but no one told him what to do now.

"You can't." Brock's voice rattled in the air. Ash glared at him like a basilisk, and Brock flinched. His close-cropped brown hair was tinged with orange, presumably from the glass of juice Ash had chucked into the air. His eyes remained as two slits hiding under bushy brows, yet they were sharp and defined.

Ash's gaze alone should have been enough to vaporise anybody on the spot. However, Brock kept his composure and stepped onto the stage. He stood his ground, facing the disgruntled boy. Ash was a good foot shorter than Brock, yet his eyes radiated such fury that Brock wanted to crawl into his own skin. He was like a ticking time bomb, primed to detonate at any moment.

"Why not, Brock? Why not?" Ash whispered, almost in a mocking tone. Brock said nothing. He didn't need to.

Before Ash could press on, sirens blared from a distance, and a cluster of blue and white police cars swerved into sight. The doors burst open, and a dozen of Officer Jenny's tumbled out in unison, Arcanines snapping at their feet.

The guard dogs snarled. Being specially trained for combat, they were built like tigers — agile enough to scale a mountain in minutes, powerful enough to crush a car with their bare paws. Delicate flames curled from their nostrils, which were devoured instantly by their slender tongues. Their golden manes glittered gloriously under the sun. The Arcanines closed ranks and formed a semi circle around the stage, carefully approaching the crazed boy.

"You called the police." Ash's eyes were cold as stone.

"I had to." Brock replied. "No one is above the law."

Ash closed his eyes. His lip quivered, as if trying to contain his rage, but it evidently failed. His eyes snapped open, and for a fleeting moment Brock saw the same look inside — that heartless, soulless gaze that pierced his heart like an arrow.

Ash pushed him.

Brock didn't even try to defend himself. Partly because Ash was so angry, partly because of guilt for betraying his friend, though he didn't know why. Ash wasn't his friend. He was a criminal.

The older boy allowed himself to topple from the ledge, his back arching towards the hard ground. He would have landed in a nasty position had Cilan not caught him immediately.

The police officers tensed and shuffled nervously. They encircled Ash as if he were a serial killer, careful not to make any sudden moves. To a certain extent, Ash did look like one. His hair was dishevelled and plastered all over the place, dripping with liquid and tangled in knots. His eyes gleamed like a madman, and a deranged smile played at his lips. _Come on,_ he seemed to say. _Try me._

One of the Jennies took initiative. She stepped forward, megaphone blaring in her hands. "Ash Ketchum, do not attempt to move. You are under—"

"Chuuuu!" A bolt of lightning tore through the sky, and where Jenny's foot was about to land lay a sizzling crater in the ground. The rubble hissed as wisps of smoke curled in the air, and the site of impact crackled with residue electricity. The tip of her boot had begun to melt, and fumes of burning plastic lingered in the air.

Jenny froze, and she slowly retracted her foot. A bead of sweat trickled down her neck as she lowered the megaphone. Had she notched her boot an inch ahead, she would have been instantly vaporised. Worst of all, her instincts told her that it was intentional. This was a warning shot.

"Pika Pika!" The electric rodent pounced in front of Ash in a protective manner, growling with an expression tenacious enough to scare off creatures ten times his size. Electricity surged throughout his body — not just his cheeks. His entire figure seemed to be surrounded by a high voltage electric field.

The air crackled as they made contact with Pikachu's fur. Static electricity discharged from his body like an overcharged plug. His hind legs reared back, ready to spring at anything he deemed a threat to his master.

Silence.

The chucking of objects halted, and a single can rolled onto the stage. Pikachu glared at the offender, and he shrank back into the shadows.

No one dared to breathe. The audience trembled at the sight of the angry rodent. Not just any rodent, the rodent who belonged to a champion. If the stories were true, one zap was sufficient to reduce any human into ashes.

Brock shivered. He had only seen this expression on Pikachu's face once, and that was when he was possessed by the legendary pokemon Groudon. Like his master, Pikachu's eyes were no longer warm and inviting, but mere sockets that radiated hatred and contempt.

All around them, the temperature plummeted. The sky darkened, and the clouds converged into one. Thunder boomed in the distance. Lightning streaked across the sky. It was as if Zekrom himself had felt Pikachu's wrath, and decided to punish mortals on behalf of his electric brethren.

Jenny breathed. The situation had turned ugly — a stand off between the police and the champion, with neither side demonstrating the intention to back down. She glanced at the skies, where fat droplets of rain had begun to hammer the stage like miniature water balloons.

Perhaps what was even more unsettling was the timing. Coincidentally, the storm began to brew at the same time Pikachu interfered. Could it be possible— Jenny shook her head, dispelling the unnerving thought from her mind. She didn't want to terrify her comrades.

Jenny straightened her cap. Regardless of the circumstances, it was her duty to enforce the law, and champions were no exception.

"Stop him!" She gave the order, and all hell broke loose. The audience ducked as huge figures swung over their heads, casting looming shadows into the stands. Sharp claws protruded from the Arcanines' paws like retractable blades, and they tore through the air in a blur of orange.

"CHUUUU!" Tendrils of electricity discharged from Pikachu's cheeks, splitting mid-air into several arcs of thunder, each of them finding their targets like a volley of homing missiles. Howls of pain rippled across the air as the Jenny's witnessed their faithful partners flung in all directions.

One of them slammed into a tree and slid onto the ground unconscious; another flattened a police car, sending sirens blazing in a frenzy. The third almost crushed an innocent couple as he was thrown into the crowd, sprawling on all fours.

Mass panic broke out. People screamed, and the crowd dispersed in all directions. Plates were sent flying, tables were overturned and liquids spilled onto the floor as the stampede took place, dousing everyone in a mixture of juice and spirits. A dozen of Jennies ran around in a futile attempt to restore order, but they were hopelessly outnumbered.

The officer in charge reached for her walkie-talkie. "Headquarters, this is Jenny reporting. We have a situation here. Call in every off-duty cop on the list. The target is highly dangerous. I repeat, the target is highly dangerous."

Ash froze as he watched the panic unfold before his eyes. The sequence of events slowly unravelled in his head, and he realised what he had done.

He had attacked a police officer.

The flicker of hope that anyone would believe his story had snuffed out like a candle, for he had destroyed the remnants himself. No one would believe him now, and he would be taken into custody with crimes under his name: assault and resisting arrest.

The last bit of strength left his body. Ash's legs buckled, and he dropped to his knees with a thud. All around him, the world seemed to blur — the crowd morphed into restless shadows, while the police officers merged into a streaks of dominant blue.

Ash crashed into a puddle of mud and water, but he allowed the liquid to seep into his trousers without resistance. He was a defeated animal, whose very spirit had been sucked out from his lungs.

"Pikachu, what did we do?" He whispered.

"Pika Pika!" Pikachu's eyes blazed with anger. _Stand up for yourself, Ash!_ He seemed to say.

Ash glanced at himself. He was tattered, his shirt sodden with at least a dozen of different drinks, and his hair was in a mess. How could he stand up for himself? He was weak. He was a failure.

At first he was falsely held responsible for Professor Oak's coma, but now he had truly broken the law.

He caught a glimpse of his mother, who was ushered to the back along with the rest of the crowd. Jenny had barricaded the area to prevent any more casualties. Delia had her hand over her mouth in horror, refusing to believe what her son had done. Ash gritted his teeth. He had gone far enough.

"I… I can't." Ash slammed his fist onto the ground, ignoring the searing pain that shot up his nerves. A river of tears — anger, misery, frustration all mixed in one streamed down his cheek and splattered onto the already sodden floor, and he couldn't bring himself to look at his best friend.

"Pi…" Pikachu sighed. He turned back to the audience and snarled, his sheer presence creating a radius of fear which no human nor pokemon dared breach. All that was needed was a single move, a single step, and whoever crossed the invisible line would be blasted to smithereens.

The veering sound of horns approached, and a dozen of black SUVs unloaded into the driveway. Ash had no doubt in his mind that those were the reinforcements. A man stepped out; he had matted grey hair, a naive face and a matching coat that draped over his body, Sherlock Holmes style.

Looker.

A cohort of fighters flanked the detective. There were a couple of Mightyena, a pair of Conkeldurr and a monstrous Hydreigon that lumbered out from the back, spitting poison from his three heads as he clambered into position. A metal chain latched onto to the beast's neck like a leash, presumably to restrain him from causing too much carnage.

"Looker." Ash growled.

"We meet again, Ash." Looker held up his International Police Badge, although it really wasn't necessary. "albeit under… different circumstances."

Ash balled his fists. Another person he had helped in the past was turning his back on him. How predictable. "I suppose you're here to arrest me." He said bitterly.

Looker bowed his head. "Orders are orders, my friend."

All around him, members of the International Police Unit assumed their positions along the perimeter. Intimidating men with matching suits, smart ties and shades stood guard at the edge, forcing onlookers from entering the scene.

Looker barked a few orders, before turning back towards Ash. "Nevertheless, let's cut out the small talk and get to the point. I'm a detective armed with specially trained pokemon. You are outnumbered, however strong you may think your Pikachu is. Don't you think it'd be a lot easier for both of us if you considered a peaceful surrender?"

"You've got the wrong guy."

"And that is none of my concern. I simply have orders to arrest you. Whatever you want to say to me, save that for the trial." Looker was being stubborn as ever.

Ash bit his lip. Pikachu met his eyes — _Grow a pair,_ he seemed to say.

Ash began to chuckle. Then he reared his head back and roared in laughter, tears still strolling down his cheek. The crowd fell silent as maniacal laughter echoed throughout the stage, confused as to whether the boy was crying or laughing, or both.

Looker took a step back, concluding that Ash was simply insane. He lifted the megaphone. "You have ten-seconds to comply before we open fire. 10, 9, 8—"

His countdown was cut short by a magnificent roar that shook the stage into oblivion. A jet of flames tore through the monitor and shot across the sky. Looker threw himself flat on the ground, but the heat seared his face from metres away. The flamethrower soared upwards, exploding into a cluster of fireworks that illuminated the sky like a miniature sun, momentarily blinding the detective.

"W-What the hell is that?" He nervously peeked out from his SUV, eyes fixated at the gaping hole that sizzled in the middle of the giant monitor. His answer was presented in the form of a looming silhouette that approached the screen.

Ash's Charizard ripped the monitor to shreds, flinging the remains skyward. The machines that connected to the screen went haywire, whirring and creaking as the giant lizard lumbered onto the stage.

He let out a roar that might just have deafened everyone in the vicinity. Tables overturned and flew backwards, plants were ripped from their roots and papers sprawled into the air as Charizard unleashed shockwaves the size of miniature earthquakes.

"Pika Pika!" The electric rodent approved. He hopped onto Charizard's head like a pilot plopping into the cockpit. Although the drastic difference in size looked ridiculous, the two of them formed a deadly combination — like a pair of symbiotic organisms.

Charizard's bulk allowed him to take on physical encounters with ease, while Pikachu could rain down deadly thunderbolts from atop like an archer.

Looker watched furiously as Charizard waded freely towards his trainer, flattening tables and tripping over wires along the way. He was supposed to be in the one in authority, yet this bumbling fool had the nerve to act as if he didn't even exist!

Charizard snorted. A putrid smell steamed from his nostrils, sending police officers scurrying like schoolgirls.

"Stand your ground, you fools!" Looker was purple with rage. All around him, the organised line of defence collapsed into shambles.

The Mightyenas' usually intimidating snarls came out as high-pitched squeals like prepubescent pups. The two Conkeldurr, formidable bodyguards with rippling muscles and arms the size of tree trunks had shamelessly retreated behind Looker. A wave of uncertainty rippled across the ranks, and every pokemon shuffled two steps backwards.

Charizard stopped next to his trainer, folded his wings and knelt. He was gesturing for Ash to climb on board.

The air was still, and no one intervened. Looker held his breath as the raven-haired boy placed one arm on his pet dragon — then he hesitated.

Ash looked around him. The rain continued to pour onto the ground like a giant shower, dissolving stains from his hair and washing tears from his face. For the first time ever, he decided that he hated the world.

He hated everyone around him — his friends, his neighbours, his supporters. They were all enemies, even the police. Traitors. Snakes. He hated Pallet Town; it brought nothing but memories of pain and suffering.

Ash was tempted to climb onto Charizard's back. Together, they could soar through the skies untouched and throw off their shackles. They could find a spot where civilisation ceased to exist, where no human would ever bother him.

He could find peace. Maybe he would build a little hut, and live with his pokemon for the rest of their lives. Charizard could light the fireplace. Sceptile could collect wood. Perhaps Swellow could hunt on land, and Kingler in the sea. He could grow crops with Bulbasaur, and Tauros would plough the soil. Perhaps, he could even raise a Miltank farm, like Whitney did. His eyes glittered at the prospect of tasting fresh milk every day.

Then he thought about his dream. If he escaped now, there would be no turning back. He would be an outlaw, a criminal wanted for putting someone in a coma. There would be no challenging the Elite Four, no battling Lance for the title of Champion. He would never become a pokemon master, because he simply wouldn't be eligible. Was this fantasy — this unrealistic fantasy really worth it?

Ash was still indulged in thought when he felt a slimy object grapple his face. Looking up, he realised that Charizard had planted a big, sloppy lick in his ear.

The gentle giant lifted his head, confusion written in his eyes. Charizard sensed that his trainer was upset, although he didn't quite understand why. He just did it because he thought it would make Ash feel better.

Truth to be told, Charizard had no idea what was going on. He was casually enjoying a ride when a racket broke out in the middle of town, so he decided to investigate. When he saw that Ash was in trouble, the dragon didn't think twice before ploughing through the monitor.

The slobber continued to drip from his trainer's face, but Ash didn't wipe it off. Instead, a single tear trickled down his cheek. It wasn't a tear forged from anger, misery or frustration — none of that. It was a tear forged from appreciation.

Ash clumsily wiped it from his cheek, and gazed into Charizard's face with gratitude. Unlike his friends, whose eyes were filled with hatred, Charizard's sparkled with kindness. He saw qualities his friends never possessed.

Innocence.

Loyalty.

Compassion.

Pokemon weren't like humans.

Humans lied. They deceived. They betrayed. Ash remembered his own friends: they laughed and smiled under their deceitful masks, taking advantage of his gullible mind. When he was the one who needed help, no one stood up for him. They all turned their backs without shame; some even sided with the enemy.

Pokemon were the opposite. Lying, deceiving, backstabbing — these qualities simply weren't part of their nature. They stuck by his side at the hardest of times. They offered unwavering loyalty, unquestionable trust and most of all, eternal friendship.

Ash was about to say something to Charizard, but Looker decided that it was time to intervene.

"Fire!" He cried. All around him, spheres of energy materialised out of thin air. A void of darkness crafted from the tips of Mightyenas fangs — dark pulse. An aura of light emerged between Conkeldurr's fists — focus blast. As for the Hydreigon, each of them forged a different element from their jaws — fire, ice and electricity intertwined into a powerful tri attack.

They let it rip, and the multitude of projectiles were launched into the air. When they descended, the attacks were one — fused into a crackling bolt of energy that swirled with several different colours, crashing down like a fiery comet.

The attacks met their target, and Charizard reeled in pain. His belly was scorched with blackened soot, and smoke hissed angrily from the wound. Spurts of ember billowed from his nostrils like an enraged volcano, and he gave another deafening roar. The ring of pokemon backed away.

"We need more firepower! You there, trainers!" Looker roared, pointing towards Ash's friends who were closest to the scene. "Attack that Charizard!"

Misty and Iris were more than happy to use Ash as target practice. May and Cilan didn't seem too enthusiastic, yet they obliged in fear of repercussions. Fortunately, Gary, Drew and Paul managed to slip into the crowd before Looker noticed. They didn't want to be involved in this any more than the others did.

Looker turned towards the Brock, who was the only one left standing. "Release your pokemon. This is an order." The doctor scowled.

Looker drew himself up to full height. He strode over, plucked a pokeball out of Brock's pocket and forced it into his hand. "Release it." He hissed.

Brock didn't move. The pokeball lay enclosed within his fist, clenched so tightly that he was surprised it didn't break. He glanced at Ash, who was treating Charizard's wound with care. The boy's face was full of misery; he gently dabbed a cloth onto the thick dragon hide while his partner winced with pain from the foul chemicals.

"No." He gritted his teeth, and forced it back into his pocket. "I have done enough damage already."

"You should be aware, former _gym leader_ ," Looker whispered. "That turning a blind eye to a crime falls under the category of assisting it. Unfortunately, you are subject to international law just like everybody else. It would be a tad unfortunate if the Pewter gym was shut down, eh?" His face was inches away from Brock.

"You wouldn't—" he growled.

"Then obey the order." Looker snapped.

Brock grumbled, and dropped his pokeball half-heartedly. It hit the ground with a clang, and Croagunk materialised in a flash. He was in his usual crouching position, arms resting calmly on his knees as he witnessed the chaos unfold before his eyes.

"Hydro Pump!"

"Fire Spin!"

"Rock Wrecker!"

"Ice Beam!"

The four trainers unleashed their attacks, and Brock contributed with a volley of Poison Stings. He did, however, ask Croagunk to soften his attacks a little. Not that it mattered anyway.

Ash stared at the ballistic beam of energy heading towards his Charizard. He witnessed his own friends pouring salt on the wound by chiming in commands. Their attacks were like the cherry on top of the cake. Sweet, sweet betrayal.

Charizard gave him one last plea, and he accepted it. Ash was angry.

No one was allowed to hurt his pokemon. No one. Besides, his friends were kind of asking for it.

"Steel Wing!" He roared. Charizard spotted the familiar glint in Ash's eyes, and he grinned. The battling spirit had finally returned to his trainer.

He faced the beam, and unveiled a set of perfect, shining wings. Each appendage spanned two metres wide, reinforced by a layer of dragon hide that was tough as kevlar.

The leathery flap — usually blue — hardened, and was quickly encased by an armour of shimmering steel. The wingtip flashed silver, indicating the completion of the move. With one swift motion, Charizard draped his massive wings around like a shield.

The amalgamation of moves clashed against the steel surface, billowing clouds of steam into the air. Charizard's wings sizzled like a frying pan, and an explosion rocked the stage — shrouding it in a layer of impenetrable mist.

Looker held his breath. If that kind of firepower didn't hurt Charizard, he didn't stand a chance. The detective waited until most of the vapour dissipated into thin air, before peering into the mist again.

Staring right back at him was a pair of glinting red eyes. With a single flap of his wing, Charizard swatted the mist away to reveal the damage he had taken — not a single scratch.

"Dragon Rage!" Looker only had time to curse as a crackling sphere of energy hurtled past him and crashed into his SUV. The car burst into flames and exploded, sending shrapnel flying in all directions. The Conkeldurr swung into action, fabricating barriers of energy out of thin air to contain the explosion.

Thick fumes accumulated in the air. Looker choked as the smoke entered his lungs, and his eyes watered. "G-Get them!" He managed an order, but no one moved.

When the smoke cleared, Ash was gone —along with his Charizard and Pikachu. They left nothing behind except utter chaos — tables and chairs sprawled onto the floor, electric equipment scattered around the stage. Two police vans had lit up in flames, spreading like wildfire as they latched onto the remains of the monitor.

He glanced upwards, and a speck of orange vanished into the clouds — disappearing like mist in the air. Looker clenched his fists. His expensive detective coat was in ruins, and men lay sprawling on the ground, knocked out by the explosion.

He felt the crowd's gaze on him. Reporters swarmed around like annoying flies, pestering him with questions.

"What happened?"

"How did you manage to make such a mess?"

"Is it true you couldn't contain a single boy?"

Looker ignored them. His blood was boiling. The renowned International Police Unit was humiliated like schoolboys. His men whimpered like cowards, some of them passed out in drunken stupors. It was absolutely embarrassing.

He whipped out his walkie-talkie. "I want Ash Ketchum on the list of most wanted fugitives A.S.A.P"

A female secretary's voice rang on the other end. "But sir, he's not even a murderer."

"I don't care! He's wanted for putting a famous researcher in a coma, attacking a police officer and causing large-scale property damage! And he made me look like a fool!"

The voice laughed. "As you wish, sir."

Looker drummed his chin thoughtfully. "While you're at it, label him a terrorist too. People hate terrorists."

 **~xXx~**

* * *

 **This was a long chapter :P**

 **Hope ya enjoyed it, and do leave a review if you want to ask some questions about the plot (except who betrayed Ash, ofc)**


	3. Chapter 3

Ash sobbed onto Charizard's back. He had no idea how long they had been travelling for, nor how far they went. He also didn't care.

All he wanted to do was run. To run as far away from everyone as possible, find a hole and hide there for the rest of his life.

Charizard reached a forest that stretched at least several acres wide, bristling with pine trees from top to bottom. There were no overarching skyscrapers, no metropolitan cities — just a plain old forest without a trace of civilisation. He decided that this was a pretty good place to stop.

The dragon took a steep dive and plunged into the canopy layer. Ash's vision blurred as they rustled through a sea of leaves, then they were clear again, emerging onto the forest floor to fresh air and a clear view.

Charizard set Ash down onto a relatively empty patch of grass. That was the best he could do, for the rest of the floor was riddled with shaggy ferns which grew unrestricted, overlapping with each other to form an endless matrix of plants. Roots and vines wove in-between like intertwined snakes, making the forest feel almost claustrophobic.

Ash tumbled bodily onto the ground — head, feet, arms and all, rolling into the soil. The cold dew soaked into his clothing, but the boy didn't resist. He just buried his head in his arms and cried.

All the frustration, the anger, the resentment came flowing out like a geyser that had been venting for hundreds of years. There was no one around him except Charizard, so Ash let his emotions run rampart. He cried and cried and cried until there was not a single tear left to shed, then he took a deep breath and pulled himself together.

"Charizard… Thank you." He managed.

Charizard grunted in appreciation, sending a terrified Caterpie scurrying into the bushes.

Ash glanced upwards. Tall pine trees loomed over them like shadowy giants, shrouding the entire sky in a mysterious network of leaves. "I guess the dream's over, huh. This is where it ends. It seems so… surreal."

Silence.

Ash sighed as he plucked a twig from the ground. "No Lorelei, no Bruno, no Agatha, no Koga. Definitely no Lance either. We're outlaws, Charizard. We're _criminals._ " He almost chuckled at the ridiculous thought.

Charizard drooped his head in disappointment. He didn't understand why they suddenly became outlaws, but the 'no battling' part got to him well enough.

"Ash Ketchum, Kanto Champion! Oh, what a naive child I was." He murmured. "And to think those _friends_ of mine were trustworthy-"

Charizard's eyes flashed dangerously at the mention of their names.

"Misty, May, Dawn, Brock, Iris, Cilan." Ash recited the list with utter contempt. "All I needed was for someone to believe me. One. Single. Person. The amount of times I've saved their necks, you'd think they would trust me just once, the time when I needed their help the most. Alas, they have all turned their backs on me."

He twirled the branch between his fingers and chucked it across the air. It impaled a nearby tree with a _whoosh_. "Backstabbing traitors." He muttered.

Charizard growled in agreement. He bared his claws, as if saying _If they were here right now, I'd rake their heads clean off._

"Yea. That'd be nice." Ash didn't seem to be paying attention. "Where's Pikachu, by the way?"

Charizard jabbed his finger towards a bed of leaves, where a certain electric rodent was snoozing away in peace. He must have used up his fair share of electricity for the day.

"Ah, I see." The boy chuckled. His mood lifted momentarily, but the thought of his mother popped up in his mind, and his smile faltered again.

Poor Delia… she would be forever distraught, having seen his son driven into exile with her own eyes. He hoped that she believed him, at least. Ash trusted his mom. Then again, he trusted his friends as well…

"What are we going to do, Charizard?" Ash whispered. He felt like a lost soul, wandering fields of the earth without purpose, meaningless to the rest of the world.

Charizard tensed his biceps. His claws glowed white, and with one sweeping motion he sliced a pine tree in half. The giant log toppled and fell, but Charizard snatched it up before it could hit the ground.

Ash frowned. "I don't understand."

Straining his eyes, Charizard chopped the log into precise segments. He thrust one into the ground, then another next to it— stacking them side by side, as if trying to build something.

"You want to leave the past behind... start a new life." He breathed softly. "Make our own hut, our farm — we can find a place and settle down for the rest of our lives."

Charizard nodded. Now that they couldn't challenge the Elite Four, there was no point in battling anymore. To be frank, there was no one he could battle with.

Ash looked like he was about to say something, but changed his mind at the last moment. Even though he didn't ask, Charizard knew that his trainer was conflicted in thought. The prospect of peace glittered like gold in front of his eyes, but something was holding him back.

"I don't know, Charizard." He shifted uncomfortably. "This isn't the time yet. There is still a role for me to play in this world, whether I like it or not. I can make a difference. I can make my own destiny... I just know it."

Charizard pouted. He lay the giant logs on the floor, and breathed a bonfire out of boredom.

"One day, Charizard. Perhaps one day…" The boy trailed off.

For a moment, neither of them said anything. They simply let the truth sink in, the truth that they would never become a pokemon master. It was a child's dream, an unrealistic aspiration buried in the past.

 _Swoosh_. The sound of ferns parting behind him rattled his ear.

A flock of startled Pidgey shrieked and took off, disappearing into the canopy. Ash didn't seem too concerned. It was probably just a wild pokemon looking for food; Charizard could subdue it if he really needed to.

The rustling got louder and louder. The pokemon's footsteps — No, they weren't pokemon footsteps. They were _human_ footsteps. Ash recognised the crunching noise as the sole of a boot clopped against the soil, squashing ferns like bugs in the process.

Ash didn't even bother to turn around. "Go away." He said.

A voice boomed back. It was cold and calculated, with a tinge of condescending arrogance that made his ears sting. "You haven't a clue what I'm about to say."

"Don't care." The boy shrugged. "I came here to be alone, so leave, or Charizard will make you leave."

Ash snapped his fingers, and his pet dragon growled. Flames curled from his nostrils as Charizard drew himself up to full size, unfolding his tent-sized wings and mammoth arms. The trees shook and his appendages scraped across leaves, unsettling whatever wildlife that remained in the area.

The man flinched. He then cursed himself for doing so, as it was absolutely essential that he did not demonstrate weakness of any sort. However, the mere sight of that Charizard sent subconscious shivers down his spine. The jagged teeth, coupled with a monstrous snout and thick dragon hide would have been enough to send any normal person into fright mode.

Fortunately, he was also a professional, and masking his emotions was one of his many areas of expertise. Within the blink of an eye, the man straightened his back and pretended as if nothing had happened. It was time to take his many talents into play.

"Is this what the great Ash Ketchum has become?" He sighed, placing his arms nonchalantly a the side. Ash winced. "Kanto Champion, driven into exile like a little child. You know what, Ash? You're a coward."

"Me? A coward?" Ash felt his blood boil. Was this guy asking for a death sentence?

"Yes, a coward." He confirmed, speaking even more quickly now. "You don't have the guts to stand up for yourself. Right now, you're letting them walk all over you. You're letting them push you around like a bullied child." The man smirked, satisfied that his plan was working.

Ash bit his lip and said nothing. He didn't want to acknowledge it, but there was a certain degree of truth to those words.

"I know why you're really here." The voice pestered.

"I'm just upset, alright." Ash brushed his concerns aside. "Here's an idea. Why don't you just mind your own b—"

"But you're not upset. You're angry."

Ash felt an uneasy sensation ripple across his body. Charizard snarled; his claws subconsciously extended into razor-sharp blades. It was evident that even the infamous warrior was capable of feeling fear.

Ash's fists curled into balls, but he hesitated from making a move. There was something different about this man— perhaps it was the calculating voice, or the demeaning tone as he lectured the champion like a little child. Whether he was sane or not, it took real guts to speak in such a tone — especially in front of a Charizard who could probably swallow him in one gulp.

The man either didn't sense Ash's anger, or he didn't care. Regardless, he rambled on without a hint of anxiety. "You're angry because you feel betrayed. Abandoned. Cheated by those you call _friends_."

A chill shot down Ash's spine. The words tingled on his nerves, pushing on just the right buttons. They were urging the monster inside him to reveal himself, and for a second he almost did.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He lied.

He could almost hear the man rolling his eyes. "You hate them, don't you? Humans. You know they are backstabbing liars, who will inevitably turn their backs on you for their own gain. You know—"

"Shut up!" Ash clenched his fists, but even his voice sounded foreign to himself. The words dug into his bones like daggers. All his secrets — the indescribable rage, the uncontainable frustration, the unmitigated hatred was spilling out— albeit from another man's mouth.

The voice ignored him. "You hate the world. You hate everything around it — the town you live in, the people you live with. You wish you could just disappear into the wild and start your own life, but you can't. Do you know why that is?"

"I said—"

"It's because you want revenge. You wish to inflict pain on those who have betrayed you."

"You're lying!" Ash roared, but deep inside he knew the voice couldn't be closer to the truth. It played into his very fears, delving right into his heart, salvaging every one of his thoughts and emotions. He was angry because the voice spoke his mind— it spoke the truth, and that was too much to bear.

"Why don't you accept the truth, Ash? Why are you running from it like a—"

A blue aura illuminated the forest, and the man found himself lifted into the air, an invisible force grappling at his neck. He gagged and grasped at the imaginary hand, but his flesh passed right through as if it were made of smoke.

The man struggled at first, with his animal instincts channeling every muscle to fight for survival. However, reason told him that resisting would only end with his death. He had to think of another way. He had to buy time.

Letting his body go slack, the man flung his head back and laughed like a maniac. "Let your anger flow, Ash. Let your emotions consume you! Kill me, if you have the guts. K—"

The grip on his windpipe tightened. The man could no longer speak, and inhuman noises croaked from his throat. He stared into Ash's eyes— cold and heartless, and for the first time he genuinely feared for his life. This boy could, and would actually kill him.

Ash's fingers were trembling. Insurmountable power surged through his body, power fluctuating completely out of control. Never before had he tasted the sensation of absolute control over another person. This man's life was but a delicate candle that could be snuffed out at any moment, and the power was in his hands. It felt strange, yet... oddly satisfying.

"You were saying?" Ash's voice was quiet as night.

He could feel the man's pulse, beating vehemently from his jugular vein. It pounded like a lonesome clock in the tranquil woods— so valuable, yet so fragile at the same time. Every breath felt like his last, for the man was taking in every precious ounce of oxygen. He writhed around to no avail, legs flailing wildly as the muscles on his neck contorted under the pressure. His face began to turn blue.

Ash's chest heaved up and down. His hands quivered as if possessed by a witch, and his body was glowing so blue that he barely resembled a human.

For a brief moment, Ash felt no longer in control. It was as if something had severed the connection between soul and body, and took over against his own will. His fingers convulsed into violent spasms on their own accord, twitching as if possessed by a witch.

The man pleaded with his eyes, but Ash couldn't stop himself. The invisible force tightened around his midsection like a boa constrictor, and he lurched in pain. Ash panicked. He concentrated his thoughts in an attempt to regain control, but the aura only got stronger.

The man's eyes began to roll back into his head. He mustered up the last of his strength, and forced the words through gritted teeth. "You're angry... you're angry because you didn't attack Professor Oak, and no one in the world believed you."

Ash froze. His fingers stopped twitching, and the blue aura vanished. The words stunned his mind as much as his body. No one had ever considered that Ash could have been innocent, but this man, thing, whatever it was — understood him. He knew exactly how Ash felt.

The invisible hand slackened, and the man dropped to the ground, reeling and gasping for air. Ash turned around for the first time to see the person who he had almost killed.

He was greeted by a figure in the form of a man, whose lean physique reminded him of a ninja. However, he wasn't dressed like one. Instead, he wore a collared black shirt and matching jeans, with an aviator jacket slotted over the top in style.

Ash couldn't see his face. The lower half was masked by a black bandana, made even more frightening by the cartoon skeleton etched into the cotton. Two sharp, arrogant eyes peered from above the veil, and his hair was hidden — tucked neatly under his hood by a headband.

 _Wow_ , Ash thought. This guy either looked like a commando who fought on the frontlines or a terrorist who was about to commit genocide. He couldn't decide which one it was.

"Please don't do that again." He winced.

Ash examined his fingers, which were tinged with a blue residue. "Sorry. I didn't mean to..."

The man panted, still recovering from a lack of air. "Aura, huh? That's some dangerous ability you've got there."

"I know," Ash sighed. "could you say that again?"

"Say what?"

"What you said earlier, about Professor Oak." Ash wanted to make sure he wasn't hallucinating.

Skeleton man rubbed his throat. "I told you. I don't believe you were the one who put Professor Oak in a coma." He pronounced every syllable loud and clear.

"How did you know?" Ash whispered. He wanted to hear the words over and over again; he wanted to drink the truth in. He wanted to hear it flow from another man's mouth.

"I can see it in your eyes."

Ash met the man's gaze, and instantly knew that he was telling the truth. His voice stood unwavering and confident, his tone plain and honest. There was no doubt about it; this person believed in his innocence.

A wave of relief flooded Ash's chest, and he almost let out tears of joy. Somebody actually believed in him. In twenty four hours, seemingly the entire world had taken against him and labelled him a criminal, forcing him into exile. Seeing a fellow human, regardless of the fact that Ash only knew him for about five minutes, on his side — warmed his heart. His eyes watered with gratitude and newfound respect for this man.

A smile curled on his lips, and Ash studied the only person who trusted him. There was a familiar glint in his eyes — an arrogant and condescending type of look, yet he couldn't figure out who it reminded him of. Perhaps he was simply grasping at straws.

Ash opened his mouth, but nothing came out; he was still trying to get over the fact that he almost committed murder. The leaves whistled, and a cool breeze took to the air. For a brief second, the man's headband parted— revealing a strand of hair that stuck out from under his hood. Ash strained his eyes, unable to resist the curiosity of this man's true appearance.

Unfortunately, fate was not on his side. Out of coincidence, a ray of sunlight slipped through the trees and blinded his vision. All Ash could see was a glitter of gold under the reflection, then it was gone — tucked back into his mysterious hood.

The man hastily steadied himself. "It's rude to stare, you know."

Ash found his mouth hanging open. "Sorry." He muttered.

The man waved his apology off. His sharp eyes scrutinised Ash, as if wondering whether he would be attacked again. "I want to show you something." He finally decided.

He lead Ash through a series of twists and turns, rampaging through ferns and hacking away at vines. The forest grew into a maze as they went. In no time at all, they were consumed by a sea of ferns that rose to knee level, while low-hanging leaves brushed against their faces like pesky flies.

Just as Ash was about to get uneasy, he spotted a crack amongst the mass of trees. A glimmer of light shone in the distance, bright and glorious like the gates of heaven. The man turned towards Ash and nodded, as if saying _yep, that's it._

He lead Ash into the opening, and it was clear again. Fresh air filled his lungs as the trees parted, and the ferns slowly withered away. A lake glittered in the middle — crystal clear, it's surface almost golden from the reflection of the sun.

The lake wasn't the only different part. All around it, the jungle sparkled with life. Mankeys swung from tree to tree like mini-Tarzans whipping through the forest. A female pidgey hovered over her delicately woven nest, feeding worms to her eager hatchings.

Kaleidoscopes of butterfree floated above the lake, leaving trails of magical powder in their wake. A single magicarp broke from the surface, flailing around as it realised that it was airborne, before falling back into the water with a splash. The scenery was the epitome of pure nature.

"It's beautiful." Ash breathed.

A single butterfree swooped down and perched on top of his head, nibbling gently at his hair. For a brief moment, Ash thought it was his own — the one who had chosen to settle down in a family rather than live the life of adventure. Then reality took over again, and emptiness welled up in his chest.

"Yes," The man agreed. "Pokemon are able to live together in peace and harmony, unaffected by the uglier natures of man — greed, selfishness, lust.

He cradled a newborn pidgey in his hands. The hatchling chirped, twisting its neck in confusion.

"Unfortunately, mankind has all of these qualities. If you place humans together, at first they will... interact;" He paused, as if choosing his words carefully. "They treat each other with care and respect, like they would treat themselves. It is one of the more powerful desires — the will to... empathise, as they say, but that is only because it benefits them to do so."

Ash pondered hard at this. He wasn't a particularly philosophical guy, and he certainly did not have any idea where this was heading at.

The man laughed a hollow laugh. "Sooner or later, human nature kicks in. Greed. Selfishness. Lust. When a person realises that his newfound... ally has no benefit, and it is his turn to, benefit his ally—"

He snapped his fingers, and the pidgey scurried off in surprise. "Bam. Betrayal. They forget about friendship, forget about integrity and focus on their own selfish wellbeing." The man's voice wavered with anger, and Ash wondered if he had experiences of his own.

Ash knitted his brows. He begin to put two and two together and understand what the man was trying to tell him. "Like Misty. Iris. Cilan. May. Brock." He murmured, a tinge of anger to his voice. "Selfishness..."

"Friendship. Love." He grunted in distaste. "These are dangerous qualities, Ash. You ought not to meddle in these affairs."

The raven-haired boy frowned. Everything the man said seemed so… unnatural. It contradicted his own take on life; it stood against everything he had ever believed in — friendship and compassion.

"Friends are good," he insisted. "There are ones who care about you, who enjoy spending time with you."

"Only temporarily," the man snorted. "You can cherish your friendship while it lasts, but it will be short lived. Sooner or later, even the most loyal of friends reveal their true colours."

"I won't." Ash said stubbornly.

"Human nature is inside every one of us, whether you like or not. The question is not _if_ , it is _when_. When will the ugly parts of us climb out from the shadows and reveal themselves to the world?"

"Not everyone," he interjected. "There will be rotten humans, just like there is with everything. There is also the other side. Innocent, good people who will give it their all to help their friends."

"Such as?"

"Huh?"

"Such as who? Tell me, Ash. Who do you consider a good friend?"

The question caught him off guard, and his stomach lurched. Ash had been dreading that thought ever since he left Kanto. He knew that it would eventually confront him, yet chose to hide in his warped bubble of reality, knowing full well that he was in denial. However, he couldn't lie to himself any longer.

 _Who did he consider a good friend?_

Not one of his friends stood up for him. No one even felt sorry for him. They all looked at him as if he were a murderer.

"Friends..." Ash droned on to give himself time to think, but his mind was blank. A bead of sweat dripped down his back. "Such as... such as my mom." He finally decided.

"And how do you know that your mother believes in you, as I do?" The man pressed.

Ash breathed heavily. He didn't want to confront the thought. "She does… she has to…"

"Are you sure about that?"

Ash paused. "Yes." He said, but his voice sounded far from convincing.

The man said nothing. He merely produced a tablet from his jacket, pressed a button, and the screen sprung to life. Ash watched nervously as he flicked through the pages, unsure of what was going on. A terrible feeling churned in his stomach.

The man appeared to be finally satisfied, for he stopped flicking. He clicked on the KNN (Kanto National News) app.

The front page was literally littered with his name. Pictures of his face sprung into view here and there, while flashy headlines such as "Champion labelled A-grade terrorist" and "Ketchum inflicts terror on public" infested the webpage like a virus.

"Lies!" Ash hissed.

The man ignored him. He continued to scroll through the propaganda, and clicked on one particular article. The thumbnail was a picture of his mother. Ash narrowed his eyes; he had an uncomfortable feeling about where this was heading.

It felt like eternity, but the webpage finally loaded. Ash craned his neck to read the small print under the picture.

Delia Ketchum: Ash Ketchum is no son of mine.

At first, his brain refused to process the information. Ash squinted his eyes and read it again, but the words did not change.

Then it hit him. The slow, lurching sensation that flared from inside his body, as if an invisible knife had slipped between his ribs and into his gut. All of a sudden, everything around him seemed foreign. The fantasy world he was indulged in melted into reality, the lies he had been feeding himself shattered to reveal the truth. There was no point hiding in denial anymore. He no longer had a place in this world.

Ash's last hope was crushed like the sole of a boot against an ant. Even his own mother wouldn't believe in him. Or even worse, she did, but denounced him out of pressure from the public.

There were many forms of betrayal, and this was the worst of them — the people who knew he was right, yet lied out of their teeth to save their own skin. A gut feeling told Ash that his mom was one of them: those who painted themselves as shining examples of virtue, yet succumb to pressure when presented with real injustice.

Tears streamed down his cheek, but this time they weren't tears of sorrow. They were tears of anger. He felt resent at the friends who let him down, hatred for the world who cast him aside.

Ash rubbed his eyes forcefully. The last mournful droplet was wiped from his cheek, leaving behind a pair of eyes devoid of sympathy. His face was no longer warm with compassion, but cold with vengeance. The childish lens that he had always viewed the world through were gone, and Ash saw the world for what it truly looked like.

It was no longer the welcoming, magical fantasy that he had been programmed to see his whole life.

It was a place full of cruelty and inequality. The world didn't care about individuals; it had no compassion or dignity. People who carved their hearts out for a better world got nothing in return, whereas those who sat back in their comfortable chairs stole all the credit.

"You're right." he said quietly. "You're right about humans, about everything—"

The man said nothing. He simply turned off his tablet, knelt next to Ash and placed a comforting arm on his shoulder.

Ash punched the ground. "I just… I just don't know what to do know now. The entire world has rejected me. I'm an outcast."

"Join me," he said. "we can avenge those who took your life away."

"You?" Ash sniffed. He looked up at the man's eyes; honest, sincere— the exact opposite of how the world had treated him.

"I run an organisation called the Shadow Klan. We are all outcasts, rejects, exiles spat out by the world in cruelness."

Ash didn't seem convinced. "How are you guys any different than _them?_ "

"Oh, but we are different. Members of the Brotherhood are not bound together by friendship. We are not united because of love. We are one because of something deeper, something much more loyal."

"What do you mean?"

"We are not here for personal gain. We will never betray each other, because our organisation is forged from betrayal itself. It is our exile from society that forces us together. It is our unanimous hatred for those who control the world we live in, and our dreams to amend it that unites us. The bond between members of the Shadow Klan runs much deeper than friendship, and last much longer than love."

"A better world?"

The man spoke with an empty expression. "I used to be like you, Ash. Passionate, make no mistake, but ignorant. Ignorant in the belief that people were ultimately good. I poured my heart out, and got nothing in return."

Ash nodded. He understood exactly how the man felt.

"I was a hero. Citizens of Viridian city were taken as hostage by an organisation called Team Rocket, and it was I who led the operation to free the civilians, and ultimately purged the criminals from our sacred city. People were grateful for my services, they expressed their gratitudes, and I was happy to play my part in society."

Ash realised that the man's fingers were trembling, but he didn't say a word. He wanted to hear more.

"They always praised me, they did. Never helped me though," The man mused, shaking his head. "I was a soldier — and like all soldiers, we were not needed during times of peace. Team Rocket was virtually non existent, and I could not find a job. No one would hire me, because I had blood on my hands. I had blood on my hands so that everyone else could be safe."

Ash found himself resonating with this stranger. Their stories seemed somewhat... similar. "So what happened?" He pressed on.

"I had no money, so I broke into a bakery to steal food. The shop owner... he spotted me and tried to stop, but my pokemon were trained for war. I was angry, I was desperate..." The man closed his eyes, as if imagining the event happening before his eyes.

"I attacked him, and Looker arrested me. I begged for a second chance, but there was no sympathy, not even from those whose lives I saved. They voted to cast me into exile, and the Shadow Klan found me. The leader treated me with respect, and promised me vengeance."

"What happened to him?"

"He passed away. Now I am in charge of the organisation, and I will finish the work he started. Humans have taken our help for granted, and for too long. The world is broken, Ash. There is no justice, there is no fairness, and we have to fix it."

"And how exactly are you going to do that?"

"By starting from the beginning. The people in power, the _corrupt_ — they can no longer sit in their ivory towers and take the credit for the sacrifices of others. We will tear society down, make no mistake. The only way this unjust system can be upturned is by tearing away the roots. Now, Ash, would you like to join our crusade?"

Ash took a moment to gather his thoughts. He thought of the man's story, a tale of sadness and blatant injustice. He thought of his friends, probably living their normal lives without any remorse. Anger welled up again, and he felt a burning desire for justice... for revenge.

The man looked him in the eyes. "Join me, my friend. The world no longer deserves pity."

He held out his hand, and Ash took it. His fingers were rough and calloused, just like that of a veteran.

"Welcome to the Shadow Klan, Ash." He said quietly.

Ash felt like the handshake had spiritually transformed him. He was a new man, with a new life. Gone was the Ash who wept in sorrow when he was treated with injustice. Gone was the Ash who wanted to live the rest of his life without purpose.

He had meaning now. He had a direction, a goal — he was part of something even bigger than himself.

The man saw the glint in Ash' eyes — the one of crazed madman, who was no longer restrained by the limitations of reason. This was an Ash who knew no boundaries, who would reach the most extreme lengths to achieve his goals. This was the Ash he wanted, and he had succeeded.

"Wow." Ash breathed.

"From today onward, you will be part of the fight for justice." The man roared in the empty field. "The world we know — corrupt, unfair, cruel will be eradicated, and on top of it's ashes we will build a better one! We will build a world where the good are rewarded for their deeds, where the true liars are cast into exile! A world where people no longer take kindness for granted, where they acknowledge it and repay their wealth to the men who deserve it!"

"Cool." Ash stretched his arms. "Do I get a bandana too?"

The man rolled his eyes. "Only if you get promoted."

"One last thing," Ash remembered. "You haven't introduced yourself yet."

"Oh, of course," he smiled. "You can call me Gray."

* * *

 **Viridian City, Kanto**

"—the tape in question clearly, and irrefutably depicts the physical assault by Ash Ketchum on Professor Samuel J. Oak, who is now in a coma. The perpetrator proceeded to attack, and hence resist arrest, of police officers attempting to subdue him."

The judge paused; he pushed his glasses against the rim and surveyed the court. A hundred eager eyes were fixated onto him, waiting to deliver the final verdict. Peering at the piece of parchment at his desk, he cleared his throat and continued.

"The Supreme Pokemon Court has therefore decreed Ash Ketchum to be guilty of all charges, and constitute a threat to national security. The International Police Force has been granted the permission to capture the target at all costs."

The wooden mallet was brought down with a thud, and the courtroom fell silent. The downfall of the Kanto Champion had begun.

No one supported Ash. The idea that someone would in cold blood, attack the very professor who built his career was so vile, so outrageous that nobody even questioned whether it was true or not. To make matters worse, the press demonised anybody who suggested otherwise, essentially bullying the critics into silence.

After his criminal records were released to the public, riots ran rampart in Kanto. People took to the streets to voice their outrage, carrying banners with pejorative paintings and slogan with rude phrases. They blockaded the roads and upturned signs, terrorising anybody who dared voice support for Ash.

Posters of the Kanto Champion were torn from walls, only to be ripped to shreds by barbaric crowds. Merchandise of his pokemon were tossed into the street as garbage, while his home was raided; his possessions looted and thrown into a bonfire.

Vandalism had become common practice. Drawings of Ash with under sniper vision were regularly chalked onto walls, while grotesque messages occupied every available space in the city. The orderly streets in Pallet Town had descended into chaos.

If these were still within the limit of reason, what happened next was not.

Challengers who made it to the end of Victory Road would be greeted by two stone pillars. They were erected like a pair of statues, guarding the entrance from trainers who were unworthy of challenging the elite four. Here, the names of all Indigo Plateau winners were inscribed, their achievements forever carved into history.

Even an artefact of such historical value was not spared. Within days of Ash's verdict, the chunk which contained his name was hacked into dust, leaving nothing but a gaping hole in the middle of the monument.

The controversy was not confined within Kanto. News spread like wildfire, and in no time every region had their say on the matter. Hoenn and Unova immediately responded by declaring Ash a threat to regional security, and each deployed their own special units to pursue him.

President Goodshow originally intended to grant Ash asylum in Sinnoh, given that his popularity from the Lily of Valley Conference. However, he overturned the decision after witnessing the outrage that followed his remarks. Giving into the public's demands, Goodshow launched an intelligence unit composed of elite pokemon rangers around the world to locate Ash's whereabouts.

As for the opposition, there were people who didn't entirely believe the 'official' story. However, the smart ones chose to keep their mouths shut. Those who spoke out faced the backlash of the public, and many were forced to apologise for their comments.

Even respectable trainers could not voice their opinions without risk of tarnishing their reputations. Cynthia was hurled abuse throughout the Champions League for simply suggesting that the video should be reviewed more carefully, and Pyramid King Brandon was asked to step down as a Frontier Brain for refusing to denounce Ash's crimes, to which he vehemently objected.

As every day passed, the resistance dwindled— but hope was not over yet.

In the middle of Viridian City, a young boy stood alone, adamant in defending his belief. He had straw-coloured hair, blue eyes and a juvenile mouth which puckered in concentration as he spoke. His jaw was set, and to him no one was intimidating enough to silence his voice.

On his left hand lay a blue flag which extended into the sky, clashing bluntly with the sea of red amassed on the streets. The paint was worn and faded, but the image stood fine and clear; it was a picture of a victorious Ash, with the words "TRUTH" printed over the top.

Unsurprisingly, he stood out like a fish out of the water. Unfriendly murmurs passed around the crowd, and in no time he was surrounded by a mob of angry looking protestors roaring with outrage.

"Truth? What does that mean?" One of them demanded.

The boy rolled his eyes. "It means the _truth_ , duh. Ash is innocent."

"Didn't you hear the judge? He almost killed Professor Oak!"

"Wrong. The judges are asshats." The boy droned with bored expression, apparently unfazed by the fact that he was vastly outnumbered. Unlike most others, there was no form of blackmail that could keep his mouth shut.

"Kid, go home. You don't know what you're talking about."

The boy's already rosy cheeks flushed red. People weren't taking him seriously because he was young, and that infuriated him. "I've actually met Ash in person, and I'm telling you he ain't like that!" He shot back.

"Someone get that stupid flag out of here." One of the men reached for his pole, and snatched it without permission. The boy tugged back, but he was no match against the strength of a grown man. It was effortlessly torn from his grasp, and the man snapped it in half under his chunky fingers, a stupid grin wiping across his face. The painting of Ash fell limply to the ground, and a boot smudged over it, tearing the fragile paper apart.

The brief sensation of victory was cut short by a click and the familiar noise of an device unhinging. Before anyone could react, a flash of light blinded the scene; a Charmander shot from the boy's pocket and raked his claws across the man's face.

He wailed in pain, clutching his nose as blotches of red blossomed on his nose. Where Charmander's claws landed lay an ugly mark that streaked from one cheek to another, while fresh blood dripped from the wound.

"You little... Ugh!" The man breathed heavily, while his fists clasped around the pokeball attached to his belt. The bystanders shuffled backwards, wary of what was about to happen. His friends — a gang of hooligans with sleeveless shirts and upturned caps stepped onto the fray, providing backup for their leader.

All around him, silhouettes of pokemon began to materialise onto the scene, one by one. They introduced themselves with thunderous battle cries that woke the streets, and bystanders stopped to observe the situation.

"Cac-turne." A green scarecrow emerged from the shadows, rubbing his spiky arms in pleasure.

"Throh." A humanoid shaped wrestler with red skin and oversized abs materialised in a flash. He rose from a kneeling position and stretched his muscles, as if warming up for a cage fight.

"Blerrgh!" A Noivern bared his teeth, showing off gnawed fangs that could chew up a cow in seconds.

"Uh-oh." The boy gulped. Charmander quietly tiptoed back to his trainer's arms, his confidence melting like butter on a piece of toast. The hooligans weren't impressed by his little stunt, and from the looks of it he wasn't going to get away for being a kid.

Throw wheeled his arms, and his body glowed with a red aura. Even as an amateur trainer, the boy recognised that it was bulk up — a move which increased the user's physical strength. If he was at a severe disadvantage before, he didn't stand a chance now.

The pile of monsters closed in, circling him like vultures eyeing their prey. A horrid smell arose as they bared their teeth, exposing fully developed fangs that put Charmander's to shame. The little lizard was usually audacious, just like all newly hatched starters. He would take on opponents twice his size, but this was a three versus one against one of the most notorious gangs on the street.

"This kid needs to be taught a lesson." One of them growled.

"He needs to learn some respect!" Another spat.

"Right, boys. Let's —" The third opened his mouth, but stopped abruptly, his eyes narrowing into beads.

A shadow was looming in-between the two parties, casting an atmosphere of uncertainty onto the crowd. The leader's eyes flicked between Charmander and the shadow, then back at Charmander again. He didn't seem to be able to work out how exactly could it produce such a disproportionate shadow, but apparently, neither did Charmander. The little lizard waved his tail curiously, but the shadow didn't respond.

"What the..." The leader took initiative and inspected the strange phenomenon, but before he could take a single step, a figure fell from the sky.

When the dust settled, a humanoid creature was seen crouching on the ground. Amber fur coated his skin, while black stripes lined all over his back. The earth dented due to the bulk of his body, and two slender tails wriggled in the air like snakes. The figure looked up, and his eyes glinted red like a machine.

" _Vire._ " The Electivire rose to full height, standing in-between the child and the murderous gang.

Cacturne and Throh growled. They didn't like this intruder poking his nose into their business, and the two of them shuffled into combat stances, ready for a battle. The Noivern spread his wings and roared, asserting his dominance in this outnumbered matchup.

Electivire didn't bat an eyelid. The humanoid creature stood still as a statue, while Charmander hid nervously behind his legs. Electivire swung his arms around like windmills, generating sparks of electricity which crackled in the air, causing his fur to stand on end. He was ready for a fight.

"Is there a problem?" A figure emerged into view, and the crowd parted. He had purple hair, stormy eyes and an expression set in stone. Paul.

The atmosphere crackled with unprecedented tension. Neither side moved an inch, but glared at each other with murderous eyes.

A wave of muttering spread across the crowd, and their pokemon shifted into defensive positions, wary of who this Electivire belonged to. The trainer in question was the most recent victor of the Lily of Valley Conference.

Even so, Paul was a mysterious character. No one knew what he was really like, except for the fact that he wasn't the most outgoing person, and probably wasn't very nice to people who got on his bad side.

"That stinking kid attacked us!" One of the hooligans complained. The mark from earlier stung on his face like an oversized paper cut, and the boy resisted the urge to laugh. Unfortunately, he didn't seem to find it funny at all.

"Yeah! He deserves it, Paul."

Paul arched his brow and contemplated the situation. There is always two sides of a story, and he didn't want to make any rash decisions. The purple-haired trainer turned towards the accused, who was hiding nervously behind his Electivire.

"Is this true? Did you attack him?" He demanded.

The boy twiddled his thumb and looked towards the floor like a child caught red-handed by his parent.

"Yeah," he mumbled. "but they were lying! He said Ash was a criminal!"

Paul sighed. He reached down and patted the child on the shoulder. "Next time, don't start fights you can't win, kiddo."

"Fine." The boy huffed at first, annoyed that he was being spoken down to again. Then he spotted the wink from the corner of his eye, and suppressed a grin.

"What's your name?" Paul asked.

"Lucas. I'm going to be Kanto Champion, like Ash was!"

Even Paul couldn't help but laugh. "You have big dreams, kiddo. Come on, let's get out of here." He placed both hands on the boy's back and ushered him through the sea of protestors. The crowd grudgingly parted out of fear, but that didn't stop them shooting daggers at the boy.

However, some of them weren't too happy. "What about that spunky kid, huh? You're just gonna let him go, Paul?"

"He needs to answer for his disrespect!"

Paul continued walking. "Pick on someone your own size."

One of the rioters wasn't having it. His Cacturne flew at Paul with his arm raised, but Electivire was faster. Two wires shot out of nowhere and found themselves around Cacturne's neck, lifting him groggily into the air.

The humanoid creature wheeled his arm and backhanded the attacker into the crowd. Cacturne crumpled onto the ground, unconscious as a rag doll. The crowd shuffled nervously at the purple-haired trainer, backing away in fear.

"You can't abuse your power forever, Paul. One day, you will learn that being champion doesn't put you above others." He growled.

Paul ignored him. Lucas turned around and stuck out his tongue, earning three enraged expressions in return. However, it didn't matter to him. The most important part was that he stood up for what was right, or at least what he believed was right. One day, when he would be powerful enough, Lucas would fight for justice, and more importantly, he would do it himself.


End file.
